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Updated: June 7, 2025
A man's coat, Wullie, is aften unco sma' for his son's back; and David there is strainin' and stretchin' her nigh to brakin', for a' the world as he does ma forbearance. And what's he care aboot the one or t'ither? not a finger-flip." As he stood watching the disappearing figure there began the slow tolling of the minute-bell in the little Dale church.
I can tell ye I was surprised to see a dacent-like chap like you sae chummy wi' sic a bad character as him. 'Aw, Wullie Thomson's no near as bad as his character. A' the same, he had nae business to slope wi'oot lettin' us ken. But he'll likely be comin' back. We'll wait for five meenutes an' see. Maggie drew herself up.
Little Willie, or wee Wullie, as she used to call him, was the light of old Moggy's eyes, and the joy of her heart. She idolised and would have spoiled him, had that been possible; but the child was of a naturally sweet disposition, and would not spoil. He was extremely amiable and gentle, yet bold as a young lion, and full of fun.
'Maybe, Macgregor suggested, 'she didna like to tell ye the truth. Christina smiled gently, saying, 'Ye've a lot to learn aboot us females, Mac. 'By Jings, ye're richt there! Willie exploded, and immediately subsided in confusion. 'Ay, she agreed placidly; 'he's no a connoisseur like you, Wullie. Talkin' o' females, hoo's yer aunt keepin'?
He was all a-shake, bobbing up and down like a stopper in a soda-water bottle, and almost sobbing. "Ha' ye no wranged me enough wi' oo that? Ye lang-leggit liar, wi' yer skulkin murderin' tyke!" he cried. "Ye say it's Wullie. Where's yer proof?" and he snapped his fingers in the other's face. The Master was now as calm as his foe was passionate.
'She wasna as saft as I fancied she was, remarked Macgregor in an uncertain voice. 'So ye wud jist gang to yer aunt's for yer supper, efter a'? 'Ay! An' the auld cat was oot at a prayer-meetin'. I ha'ena had a bite in ma mooth since denner-time. Ha'e ye onything o' yer uncle's handy? 'I can gi'e ye a wee tin o' corned beef, Wullie. Ye ken whaur to find it. 'Least ye can dae, Willie growled.
"Naethin' ava, laddie, naethin' worth the mention. Only aiblins the Killer'll be caught afore sae lang." David smiled incredulously, wagging his head in offensive scepticism. "Yo'll catch him yo'self, I s'pose, you and yer Wullie? Tak' a chair on to the Marches, whistle a while, and when the Killer comes, why! pit a pinch o' salt upon his tail if he had one."
I wad wuss ye, quoth she, 'to tak tent till't till I come hame ye sall hae a roosin' ingle, and a blast o' the goodman's tobacco-pipe forbye. Wullie was naething laith, and back they gaed the-gither.
In a moment the last six weeks of mad, unhappy dreaming and hoping vanished; she saw herself back again in her own sphere among her own people. She tried to picture Louis there, too, and realized horribly that he would never fit into the picture. Against Wullie and the doctor and her aunt he would look so vulgar, so pretentious, so tinsel-coloured.
The fact of his having tasted the joys of victory served to whet his desire. And now he felt he could never be happy till the Cup was his own won outright. At home David might barely enter the room There the trophy stood. "I'll not ha' ye touch ma Cup, ye dirty-fingered, ill-begotten wastrel. Wullie and me won it you'd naught to do wi' it. Go you to James Moore and James Moore's dog."
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